The World is Ahead
by MornieGalad
Summary: Boromir's adventures before the Lord of the Rings. When he is sent to defend Osgiliath the enemy attacks. What will the end result be?
1. Default Chapter

_Disclaimer:I own Elendacil. I do not own the language of her name, any of the places she is found in in this story or any of the people she encounters. Furthermore, I do not have any claim to any members of Denethor's family, any member_ _of the Fellowship of the Ring, any of the places in Middle Earth or anything else which I have failed to mention that is obviously Tolkien's. Finally, I do not own Tolkien. Enough about me, on with the story. _

_**The World is Ahead**_

**Chapter One**

Young Faramir glanced up at his older brother, who was mounted on a horse Faramir

himself had trained. Soon the two sons of Denethor, steward of Gondor, would be separated by a great distance. Faramir was assigned to train a group of Rangers in Minas Tirith, while Boromir and a group of the finest Gondorian soldiers available were bound for the borders of Mordor and Gondor. Faramir was terrified. His brother had always protected him. What would happen if Boromir did not return, he wondered.

"I'll be fine, little brother," Boromir assured him, as if reading his thoughts. After embracing Faramir one last time, he disappeared into the east, toward Mordor. Faramir gazed after his brother even after the stars began to emerge in the sky. Then he felt a brush of air as someone came up beside him. Faramir turned to see Elendacil, a lady he had never met before, but knew her in an instant by her reputation. She was well known in Gondor as a foreseer, a healer, and a soldier. Her stern, yet beautiful features, along with her fiery red hair made her impossible to mistake. He tried to disguise his worry from her, which he tricked himself into believing would be simple in the darkness.

"Do not hide your tears from me, Faramir, son of Denethor," her voice filled the distance between her and the young man. "You should be concerned for your brother." Her voice did not hold the strong pride that Faramir had expected. Instead, she seemed to understand how he felt. Because of this, he had the courage to ask her the question he needed to voice.

"Will he come back, my lady?" his voice wavered. There was silence for a moment. Faramir had not expected an answer and, for a moment, believed the lady beside him was nothing more than a phantom. Then she spoke.

"Boromir will return, Faramir. Do not lose hope," she commanded him. Faramir smiled and, although the fear was still apparent in the tears that fell from his eyes, he was comforted by the words of Elendacil. Just by the way she uttered them, he knew she had spoken them many other times to many other warriors, when all hope seemed lost. She had survived. Truly hope was not lost, thought Faramir, as he bowed to the lady and took his leave.

The army of Gondor was greatly outnumbered. They had been returning to their camp at Osgiliath when they had been ambushed by the enemy. Boromir had blown the horn of Gondor multiple times, but thus far no aide had come. Perhaps Osgiliath had been attacked as well, Boromir thought. That possibility only caused him to fight more vigorously. One by one, the Gondorians fell. Within moments, only a handful of the army remained. Boromir summoned his warriors to his side with a blast from the horn of Gondor. Then, just as it seemed that the end had come, arrows of Gondor flew at the servants of Mordor. One of them struck Boromir in the shoulder. In the split-second wince that Boromir allowed himself, a weapon of the enemy struck him, and he fell into the Anduin River.

Elendacil sat straight up, wide awake. It had been nine days since Boromir had left Minas Tirith and a message had come at dawn every day, saying that Osgiliath was secure and there had been no attacks. Yet she knew this dream was not a fantasy. She rose and made her way to the throne room, waiting for dawn and news of the army. The streets of Minas Tirith were abandoned, but Elendacil was accustomed to this. Often she would walk the streets early in the morning to bring counsel to the steward. She glanced at the sky. The stars were beginning to dim and dawn would come all too soon. Elendacil sighed and took one final breath of the fresh morning air before entering the throne room.

Denethor slept soundly in his throne. There was no need to wake him, thought Elendacil. If he knew her thoughts before they were confirmed, he would not be able to do anything to aid his son. Besides, in this instance Elendacil thought it unlikely that the steward would heed her dream concerning his son.

Let him sleep then, thought Elendacil. Knowing she had enough time, she dashed to the armor closet just outside the throne room where she kept her own armor. She donned it with the skill of the seasoned warrior she was. First she carefully pulled a mithril shirt over her head. It had been a gift from a friend many years before. The collar was decorated with silver stars, making the design quite unique to Elendacil. Over the chest was the white tree of Gondor, outlined in green. Over the mithril shirt she placed her armor, made in the style of Minas Tirith. On this was also the insignia of the white tree of Gondor, this time arrayed in silver, like all the other knights'. She then pulled her lone, red hair out of her armor and back into her helmet. Then she returned to the throne room to await the dawn.

She did not have to wait long, although to Elendacil it seemed like an eternity. At last, Denethor awoke, and beheld her silent figure, her back turned to the throne. A smile passed over his face, for he knew her no matter whether she faced him or not.

"Why have you come hither at this hour of the morning, my lady?" he inquired as the servants rushed about fetching his breakfast. Before Elendacil could speak, a messenger burst into the throne room.

"My lord, my lady," he bowed to the steward as he approached and nearly fell down in his weariness. A servant came forward to assist him, but the soldier waved him off and knelt before Denethor. The steward nodded, giving him leave to speak.

"My lord, I rode all night from Osgiliath. The orcs attacked on of our parties as they returned to the city. Osgiliath was unscathed, but your son, my lord," the messenger swallowed fearfully under Denethor's now cold stare, "My lord Boromir was with them and . . . he fell, quite valiantly I assure you, my lord." The steward sat motionlessly for a moment, studying the terrified man. There was a stone-cold silence that filled the throne room, making everyone tense, anxious for the steward's next move.

"Thank you. You may go. Leave me," he commanded, addressing all those in the room. Elendacil rose to leave.

"My lady, would you remain," came the steward's voice just as she turned.

"As you wish my lord." Denethor motioned for her to have a seat upon the stairs at his feet.

"Is this why you came to me?" he asked after everyone else had left the room. He was fighting hard to banish the grief from his voice.

"Yes, my lord," Elendacil nodded. "I dreamt of the battle last night."

"Then he is dead," Denethor whispered, not really speaking to anyone. He did not look at his advisor, but stared off out the windows of the throne room. He rose, as if in a trance, and walked toward the doors. Elendacil accompanied him outside, not speaking, but studying her steward. Denethor went to the tower of Ecthalion and looked off toward Osgiliath, into the east. That was how Elendacil left him, for she had another duty to perform. She had to inform Faramir.

"It cannot be!" Faramir cried, not bothering to hide his tears. He collapsed in brokenhearted sobs to the ground at the feet of Elendacil. The lady knelt down beside him, attempting to console him.

"Faramir, do not lose hope. I believe your brother may still be alive. If you would notice, the body was not brought to Minas Tirith, but fell into the Anduin River." Faramir glanced up at her and saw in her green eyes the light of hope. He almost disbelieved her for a moment, but he had to trust her. He was obligated to.

"What must I do, my lady?" he asked, still fearing to hope, but his courage overwhelming his fear. He loved Boromir too much to allow fear to overcome the hope he still had for his brother's life.

"You must stay here and try to comfort your father. I have spoken with him, but only briefly. I know his way and he would not dare to have hope that Boromir yet lived. He believes him dead. If you can convince him that hope is not lost, you are a better man than I. Go to him, Faramir, for he is much aggrieved," Elendacil commanded. Faramir rose and dried his eyes. Then Denethor's youngest son turned toward the white tower of Ecthalion. Elendacil, in turn, raced to the stables and mounted her horse, Alaksul. Then she raced toward the Anduin River, praying to the Valar for speed.

"Boromir!" Elendacil shouted his name. She stood on the shores of the Anduin, for grace had been with her. If it favored her further, Boromir's body would not have passed this part of the river already. She was as far as she could go, quite a ways past Osgiliath. She shouted his name once more and her call echoed over the deserted river. The current was flowing swiftly, hinting at an oncoming storm, but not once did Elendacil ponder returning to Minas Tirith. It was not even midday, yet the dark clouds that covered the sun gave the world the appearance of twilight. For quite some time the soldier stood on the riverbank, scanning the white crests of the waves for any sign of life. Then, as the wind became even more violent, a dark-haired head became visible over the rapids. Elendacil sped out into the water and grasped the man around his shoulder, fighting to keep his head above the river. Boromir groaned, assuring his rescuer that he was alive and her efforts were not in vain. After a vigorous battle, they finally reached the shore, and Elendacil collapsed exhausted. Boromir was unconscious, but alive. Alaksul came to the place where the two warriors lay and the woman stood and heaved Boromir onto the horses back. She hoisted herself up behind him and sped Alaksul back to Minas Tirith.


	2. The Fate of the Gates

Disclaimer: I don't own it and I'm not going to write a better disclaimer because I want to get to typing the story and you want to read it.

**Chapter 2: The Fate of the Gates**

"Get out!" Denethor hollered. He hurled his cup at Faramir, who barely ducked the well-aimed missile.

"Father, he may yet be alive," he pleaded.

"Do not lure those who would listen to your false hope. You know nothing, wizard's pupil. Your pathetic denial of the truth shames our family. You are not worthy to be called my son," Denethor's voice echoed through the great hall. Faramir was silent for a moment drowning in his father's accusations. When he spoke, tears clouded his eyes.

"You wish now that our places had been reversed, that . . ."

"Yes! I do!" Denethor screamed in fury.

"My lord," called a soldier, cautiously opening the doors to the throne room.

"What is it?" inquired Denethor, regaining his composure, though still glaring at Faramir.

"The Lady Elendacil is approaching the city and wishes to hold counsel with you."

"Tell her I will see no one," the steward commanded coldly. The soldier bowed and left.

"Why are you still here?" Denethor inquired, turning to Faramir.

"Father . . ." Faramir began.

"Goodnight," the steward commanded. Faramir sighed and, tears still rolling down his cheeks, left the throne room. Denethor sat down again and buried his face in his left hand.

* * *

The stars shone overhead as Elendacil sighted Minas Tirith. She sighed in relief and held Boromir closer to keep him warm. The son of the steward shivered in the night air. Elendacil urged Alaksul on toward the torches of Minas Tirith, which glowed dimly in the distance.

She saw another rider approaching, not far off. She knew it must be the messenger she had found to bring word to Denethor. She could see his hesitance as he slowed his steed to a trot. Obviously he did not bear favorable news. Elendacil patted Alaksul gently to reassure her.

"My lady," the messenger addressed her, gazing down at the ground to avoid her powerful gaze. He didn't continue, but glanced fearfully at the man the lady rode behind, who was slumped over the horse's neck. Elendacil held up her hand, showing she knew what the man would say, and sighed. It wasn't a sigh of surprise, she had expected Denethor not to hope for anything, lest he be disappointed, which would be worse than the initial grief.

"We must find a nearby house in which to spend the night, my friend," she addressed her fellow soldier. He nodded as she urged Alaksul to resume the course toward the city. Under her arms, Boromir stirred and muttered something indecipherable, but did not open his eyes. Elendacil tightened her arms around him to prevent him from falling off the horse. Minas Tirith loomed closer, shining brightly in the starlit sky. Closer it came. The gates were closed, and, trailing behind Elendacil, Thormir, the messenger, couldn't help but wonder if they would be permitted to enter. The guards, no doubt would be especially cautious in light of the attack at Osgiliath and they would be unable to be properly seen in the darkness. He needn't have worried, however. Just at the great gates, Alaksul reared onto her back feet and kicked gently at them. Much to Thormir's astonishment, the enormous barrier swung noiselessly open, as if in a dream, allowing them to pass. He gaped in awe at the open gates, then the horse, and finally at her rider, who was already inside and motioned for him to follow. She seemed as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Still utterly astounded, Thormir passed through the gates, which inched silently shut behind them. Just as he entered, four guards approached, all carrying lanterns.

"Who are you?" demanded the one nearest Elendacil.

"I am Elendacil, advisor to Denethor. His son, Boromir is injured and we need a place to rest for the night," she gestured to the motionless form in front of her. "I believe you know your fellow soldier," she hastily indicated Thormir. "Now, if you will excuse us . . . "

"You lie," declared one of the guards, "Boromir is dead. The lord Denethor told us all this afternoon. Surely his advisor would know this." He spat the last sentence as though they were mortal enemies.

"Well, here he is, and he lives. There is breath still in him. Therefore, it would be wise to allow us to proceed," Elendacil's tone was rising, becoming infuriated at the folly of the guards.

"Surely you recognize the son of the steward," Thormir said calmly. The guard who had been speaking stepped close to Alaksul and held his lantern close to Boromir's unconscious, damp, face. He stepped back and Thormir looked at him hopefully.

"That is not the steward's son," he declared, a viciously cold note in his voice. A look of panic crossed Thormir's face but Elendacil remained calm. The guard passed in front of Alaksul and two of the other guards closed in to prevent Elendacil from speeding off. The guard crossed to Thormir and held his lantern so close to the soldier's face that Thormir had to close his eyes.

"I do recognize a spy, though," he accused, not moving his lantern. Thormir's face went white.

"I . . . I was sent by Lord Denethor with a message for the Lady Elendacil," he stammered, visibly shaking.

"A likely story," sneered the guard. "It's more probable the two of you and this man," he indicated Boromir with a jab of his gloved finger, "are united in a conspiracy to destroy Gondor." He drew his sword. "All three of you are under arrest."


	3. The Light of the Storm

Disclaimer: Although I write it all, I own nothing. That's just a sad fate.

**Chapter Three: The Light of the Storm**

Thormir looked on in horror and disbelief as Elendacil drew her sword. Before one clash of metal on metal rang out, the approaching guard collapsed in between Alaksul and Thormir's steed, falling as though he had been knocked unconscious from behind. The other three guards gazed at him, confused, trying to comprehend the event. The one nearest Thormir moved first, putting his hand to his sheath, but before he could draw, he too fell, his helmet landing on the foot of Thormir's steed. The stallion reared up in surprise, distracting the two remaining guards so that Alaksul reared up and knocked them unconscious. Just then, Elendacil felt a shadowy hand rest on her left leg in the darkness.

"Follow me," whispered a voice. Then the hand left her leg and went to guide Alaksul. In the dim light of the nearby lantern that now lay on the ground, Thormir could see the silhouette of Alaksul. Although he had no idea what had just happened or where they were now going, he turned his steed to follow his companions into the darkness of the night.

* * *

Faramir lay awake in his bed, choking back tears. He was desperately struggling not to give in to despair, but as the hours passed without any news or signs of hope, it became increasingly difficult to do so. Knowing he would be incapable of sleeping until he received word from Elendacil, for good or ill, he rose and began to wander, unconsciously placing one foot over the other. Before he realized where he was going, he had arrived in Boromir's quarters. They were just as they had been only a short time ago, when Faramir had last been in here to help his brother prepare for duty on the borders. The blue-grey sheets on the bed were unkempt and a pillow was left on the floor. Faramir gazed down beneath him, where there were footprints from dirty boots, full of days of outdoor adventures. A picture ran through Faramir's mind of the last time Boromir had left his room, this room. He had been wearing his full suit of armor, save his helmet, which he held fondly in his left hand, and his sword. He had been standing in front of a mirror, admiring his reflection, a serious, yet pleased look on his face.

"If you stand there much longer, you'll turn into a statue," Faramir had said. His brother had turned to face him and smiled affectionately.

"Then you can put me in the library with your beloved books," he joked. "You'll always be able to find me, then. Come, or we will be late." Boromir had started to the door, leaving traces of dirt everywhere. Faramir had begun to follow, but saw his brother's sword in its sheath, lying on a table near the window. He picked it up and hurried to Boromir's side.

"Don't forget this."

"Thank you, little brother," Boromir said. And then, thoughtfully, "Take care of father while I'm gone, just like we take care of each other."

"You have my word." They embraced, both smiling broadly and left the room.

Faramir felt a cold breeze bring him back to reality. He started, trying to find its source. His eyes darted to the window, which was ajar just enough to let a breeze in. Boromir must have opened it the morning he left so that he could smell the scent of the dewy morning of Minas Tirith once more before going to his duty. Faramir went to close it, but thought better of it just as he had his hand on the wooden slide. He would leave it as his brother had. He sat down on the bed, trying not to move the sheets, savoring his brother's familiar scent. Somehow, breathing in the air of the room, he felt as though Boromir was much nearer, which brought him some peace, regardless of what it might mean. The aroma made Faramir drowsy and, although he did not fall asleep, a sort of trance came upon him. His mind was lost in thoughts and memories of his brother for as far back as he could recall. Every day of his life seemed to flash slowly before his eyes. When he emerged, it seemed like hours, but it may have been mere minutes, Faramir rose and slowly left the room. He was heading for the lookout post, prepared for whatever fate lay ahead.

* * *

The sky had clouded over and freezing drops of rain and hail fell on the company. Boromir shivered under Elendacil's cloak, which she had removed to keep him warmer. Alaksul followed the lead of the figure ahead of her, who still remained in the shadows. Not far behind, Thormir kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, wary of an ambush, and turned his head this way and that, although he could see nothing. He had been following Alaksul by the sound ofher hoof beats, but now they had been silenced. A light suddenly flickered on from up ahead on the right. Thormir started in surprise and drew his sword. Hoof beats! They were approaching from the direction of the light. The soldier frantically darted his head every which way, trying to guess where this mysterious person would strike. The hoof beats halted, surely only a few feet away from him, yet he could see no one. He was certain he could feel the hot breath of some monster on the back of his neck. He braced himself for the end.

"Thormir," hissed Elendacil beside him. Thormir turned fearfully. "Come, we have found shelter." Keeping his horse very close to Alaksul, the soldier followed. He couldn't help repeatedly glancing over his shoulder, however futile he knew it must be. They went toward the light and in its glow, Thormir saw Elendacil dismount. She ducked into the doorway of the building and Thormir hesitantly followed suit. Boromir lay inside, the perspiration and raindrops on his face lit by the lantern light. Beside him was a dark-haired man, whom Thormir distrusted immediately from his looks. He appeared extremely shabby and Thormir wasn't willing to credit the rain alone for this. He had a look in his eyes that Thormir didn't like, but Elendacil clearly trusted him enough to have left him alone with the unconscious son of Denethor. The man must have been aware that he was being watched, for he raised his eyes from Boromir to meet those of Thormir. They held each other's gaze for what were the longest and most awkward moments of Thormir's life before he managed to brake free of the trance of the dark man's icy blue eyes and stare down at the ground instead. He now felt increasingly uneasy, despite Elendacil's confidence. She was now squatted on the far side of the man, near Boromir's head, and spoke to him in such hushed tones that Thormir couldn't understand a word they said. He looked uneasily out into the night past the doorway. The sky was unrelenting in its battle against the earth, hurling sleet and rain ever more viciously. The loud pounding as the precipitation collided with the pavement was by now a constant booming. Above it, a clap of thunder raised its voice and lightning pierced the darkness. Tethered to the pole outside, Thormir's stallion, Rumil, whinnied with fright, while beside him Alaksul stood motionless, her eyes turned as though she was watching what was happening in the house, which, glancing about him, Thormir now realized was really a vacant barn. There was soft, dry straw everywhere, but Thormir supposed he had been too preoccupied with the other man to have noticed this earlier. He grabbed two handfuls of straw and fed it to the horses.

* * *

A sharp clap of thunder jolted Denethor awake. He was in his throne in the vacant throne room. He sighed and strode to the doors, for no reason in particular. He opened one of them, the left one, and peered out to see the storm. Hailstones bounced off the white tree of Gondor and knocked some of the lighter branches fromits frail trunk. The wind blew violently toward him and tossed his hair every which way. Another flash of blinding light sliced through the dark, damp, sky. The steward forced the door closed.

"The storm has come," he declared, speaking to the airy emptiness of the throne room.

* * *

At that very instant, Boromir opened his eyes. He shivered and blinked rapidly, then focused his gaze on a familiar face.

"My lady," he whispered.

"Hello, my captain," she replied.

"Stay still," the dark man ordered as he massaged something on Boromir's neck and removed the armor so he could reach the wound on Boromir's shoulder where the arrow had pierced the skin.

"Who is he?" Boromir asked, wincing in pain, as talking was painful.

"I am Naurmor."

"He helped us find shelter and escape the guards. Your father believes you fell in battle," she explained, practically reading his mind. "I came after you following your supposed death. Faramir is trying to keep both his and your father's spirits up."

"Thank you," the captain of the white tower said.

"Sleep now. You will be all right," Naurmor instructed, a note of tenderness in his voice. Boromir shut his eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep. His breathing was slow and even. Elendacil let out a sigh of relief. Sensing she wanted to tell him something, Thormir stepped further into the barn and the lady came to him.

"He has not been poisoned and the wound is far from mortal. He will be fine in a day or so. Right now, we should all get some sleep." Thormir was about to protest that he didn't want to sleep with Naurmor nearby, but the man extinguished the lantern and all turned to darkness.


	4. The Edge of Night

_Disclaimer: It's finally updated and I still own nothing more. _

_**Chapter Four: The Edge of Night**_

"What are your orders, captain?"

"Search the city. The enemies of Minas Tirith must be destroyed, for they are too dangerous to be kept alive." The whispers of the guards barely penetrated the silence of the night. "We must dispose of them before he comes," the captain, Velith, said to himself as his troops dispersed from him.

* * *

The soft, easy breaths of Boromir and Thormir mixed with the rain and could have, on any other night, lulled Elendacil into slumber. Thormir had quickly been overwhelmed by exhaustion despite his distrust for Naurmor, but the lady was not as easily caught off guard as he. She was uneasy, not because of their new companion who accompanied her in her vigil, but because of the guard at the gate who had refused to acknowledge either her or Boromir's identities. Moreover, he had accused them of being spies of Mordor. No doubt he would have regained consciousness by now and he would seek them out. It would not take him long to find them, for Alaksul and Rumil would betray their location, which could not be avoided. she would have to solve his riddle before he arrived. Why had he claimed not to recognize her? Beside her, Boromir stirred, but soon returned to his silent repose. Naurmor approached the lady, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"We will have to fight them when they arrive," he whispered. Elendacil nodded, hearing him, but urgently pondering the guard's actions. He had acted as if he were under a spell, but surely not an enchantment from Mordor. Sauron had not yet gained such power yet as to seduce such a strong willed man as the captain. Studying the memory of his face, Elendacil found he was familiar, a close associate of the steward and his family. He had fought beside her on many an occasion, but now he knew her not. This must be some witchcraft of Sauron's, but Elendacil vowed not to allow it to continue.

"Listen," she hissed to Naurmor. An armored footfall from the distance reached their ears. Elendacil's hand went to her sword just when Naurmor's and in that brief instant, a faint flash of gold flickered around Naurmor's neck. The footfalls were coming nearer and, by the sound of it, were nearly upon them. the flickering light of a torch shone just outside the barn shelter. This was the time for action. Naurmor and Elendacil sprung up and their swords were instantly met with metal. Elendacil's sword made contact with all three guards, meaning the odds were nearly equal for now, but a quick scan of the guards' determined faces revealed that Velith, their captain, was not yet among them. He would arrive soon and he would bring as many soldiers as he could find. Even now, Elendacil could hear the clamor of their armor as the foray approached. They fell upon Elendacil and Naurmor.

"Thormir!" Elendacil's voice woke the young soldier. Drawing his sword, he sped to her side, but he could tell instantly that they were hopelessly outnumbered. Then the lady brought something from Alaksul's back and a red light filled the eyes of those present. To Thormir, it brought peace and hope, but the soldiers opposing Elendacil fell into disarray. Some fled, while others froze in their steps, seemingly blinded. One collapsed on the ground, seemingly dead. A few of the strong continued to fight, enough of them so that the trio was quite occupied. Suddenly, they heard a groan behind them and three heads turned to see that Boromir's left arm had been struck by an arrow. Elendacil's eyes sparkled in anger and the red light seemed to grow in intensity. Fear was struck into the hearts of even the boldest and all of them fled, save for Velith and the limp body that lay on the ground. Velith gazed at Elendacil as if sizing her up and Thormir thought he might attack, but after a few moments, he slunk away, Elendacil gazing after him. Naurmor had left her side to attend to Boromir. When he met her eyes, his face was grave.

"The arrow was poisoned with a fast acting toxin. We must get him to the Houses of Healing immediately."

"The guards will come back if we leave now," Thormir said.

"We have no choice," Elendacil determined, guiding Alaksul into the shelter. Suddenly, the body on the ground, which had been presumed to have been dead, twitched and let loose a slight groan. Thormir went to the fallen soldier's side and helped him up, receiving disapproving glances from Elendacil and Naurmor. He rolled the man over so his face was visible.

"I know this man," Thormir whispered. "I grew up with him. My lady, it's Araiss."

"We don't have time to make sure he's fully conscious and we can't be entirely sure he can be trusted," Elendacil stated, wasting no time loading Boromir onto Alaksul's back.

"You can trust me, my lady," said Araiss, awakening. "I didn't realize it was you and my lord Boromir. I was only following the orders of my captain." Elendacil eyed him suspiciously, but before she reached her conclusion, Thormir spoke.

"My lady, I will be responsible for his every move. If he does any wrong, let it be on my head."

"Very well. He will ride with you, Thormir," the lady conceded. Naurmor mounted the steed behind Elendacil and Boromir and on Rumil road Araiss and Thormir. They set off toward the seventh level of the city.

* * *

The storm was dying down slightly as Faramir made his way to the best place for watching the grounds surrounding Minas Tirith. Nonetheless, he was drenched by the time he arrived at the beacon. There were no stars to guide his eyes and he wouldn't light the beacon lest allies send their soldiers needlessly, so he achieved a torch and a light from the shelter nearby, used by the tower guard for their own purposes. He positioned himself under the shelter of the beacon, his right arm holding the torch high enough so as no to light the herald of war and woe. His eyes scanned the terrain, but he saw no sign of either Lady Elendacil or his brother.

It seemed as if he remained there for hours. Faramir's arms, which alternated the duty of holding the torch, were both going numb and chills were running down his spine. He shivered from the chill, though the water that had plagued him on his venture to the beacon was drying. Then, just as he was about to surrender to the elements and return to shelter, he saw a moving shape in the distance. As it grew closer, Faramir could distinguish a horse and rider from the seemingly endless terrain. The figures were as one rapidly approaching the great gates. The steward's youngest son let out a frustrated sigh, however, when he saw that the steed bore only one rider. His grey cloak flew behind him in the wind and Faramir could make a guess at who the rider was. For a moment, the gate concealed him from view, but presently it inched open and Faramir saw that the grey pilgrim had indeed come again to Minas Tirith. He was delayed for a few moments by the guards at the gates, but then disappeared from Faramir's vision. The son of the steward scurried from his watch place as quickly as he could, hoping Gandalf would head for the throne room as he suspected he would.

* * *

Araiss dismounted Rumil and opened the door for the rest of the sopping wet group. They had finally made it to the Houses of Healing. Had the weather been fairer, Thormir would have estimated it to be about dawn. He and Araiss tethered the horses to a nearby pole as Elendacil and Naurmor bore Boromir into shelter.

It was a large room, with nearly every kind of plant imaginable. By the time Araiss and Thormir entered, Naurmor was treating Boromir on the bed furthest from the draft of the door as Elendacil gazed outside. Thormir had to wonder why she trusted this man, who, as to his knowledge, she'd never met before today, but had been so hesitant to allow Araiss to accompany them. As he recalled, she had even aided in the instruction of the regiment in which both he and Araiss had been enrolled.

"Close the door," the lady's orders interrupted Thormir's thoughts. He quickly did so, expecting to be met with darkness, but Elendacil must have been holding a torch, for a dim light filled the room. Thormir sat on one of the nearby beds, while Araiss, looking slightly uncomfortable, rested on the floor near the door. After a while, Araiss removed his helmet, unveiling his light brown hair and young face.

Gathering his courage, he broke the silence. "Milady, what was that light that seemed to emanate from you as the soldiers attacked you at the barn? It made me feel as if I were about to die, or as if I was dead." Thormir looked at his companion in surprise, but Elendacil's passive expression remained unchanged. She said nothing, though, her attention focused on Boromir.

"Milady?"

"I heard your question, Araiss, but I cannot answer you at this time."

"May I ask why not?" her silence answered his question. At length, she spoke again.

"Go and tell Lord Denethor that his son, Lord Boromir is alive and resides here in the Houses of Healing. Go now, both of you." Thormir hesitated, but followed Araiss through the door. Once they had left, Elendacil took up her post beside Boromir and Naurmor.

"I saw your ring, mellon nin. Thormir has been wondering why I trust you, just as I sometimes wonder why you make your friends work so hard to discover that it is you under your disguises."

"I would not have let you wonder long," Naurmor said, without even glancing up from his work.

"Have you had any progress?" she asked, placing her hand on Boromir's brow.

"Some. I've been so busy trying to cure the poison that I've not heeded its acceleration." Boromir murmured something in his sleep, his face glowing red, whether due to the light, a natural course of the poison, or both was impossible to guess. Elendacil slowly withdrew her hand from his head.

"His fever is getting far worse. The need for haste is becoming greater," she whispered worriedly. In the light clothing he wore, Boromir shivered violently. "Easy, easy," the lady whispered, her arms steadying him. As his body calmed, she retrieved a cloth and dampened it, stepping outside in the rain. Closing the door, barely audible, she returned to Boromir, who had grimaced at even that slight sound. "Keep fighting, Boromir," she whispered, her head close to his as she placed the cloth on his brow. "We're not going to lose you. Gondor needs you."

* * *

As it happened, Faramir, Gandalf, and the two messengers of the lady encountered each other in the throne room. Faramir, the first to arrive, had simply thrown the doors asunder and, seeing that his father was indeed wide awake, had alerted him that Gandalf was in the city. Denethor had time to holler a few choice words such as "wizard's pupil" and "foolish infant" at Faramir before Gandalf as well entered the room, a flustered young guard trying to keep up with the wizard and attempting, in vain, to announce him to the steward before the Istar invaded more of the throne room.

"I must speak with the Lady Elendacil immediately," Gandalf declared, without so much as greeting Denethor or Faramir. The guard, no doubt believing the wizard completely lacked any social courtesy or respect for authority, surrendered and returned to his post, the door slamming loudly behind him.

"Where she is, I know not," Denethor replied, glancing coldly at his son.

"I do not know either, Mithrandir." Just as Faramir finished speaking, the doors swung open a third time and two armored soldier clanked into the throne room.

"I need your names!" the guard hollered, out of breath, yet running on their tails. "Surely you know that!" Araiss halted, but Thormir proceeded rapidly toward the trio that now was accumulated at the front of the room.

"I am called Araiss and my companion is Thormir." He then resumed his trek following Thormir. The guard had to sprint to catch up with them and hardly stopped before colliding with the steward's throne. He dusted himself off as the two messengers knelt before the steward.

"My lord, I present to you Araiss and Thormir," the guard said, standing erect, though faltering on the last part of his statement as he comrades lacked both heritage and impressive titles. Denethor waved his hand and, bowing to the steward, he returned once again to his post.

"Now, what is your purpose here?" Denethor asked.

"Please, my lord, lord Boromir is alive in the Houses of Healing," Thormir reported. With more speed than either messenger had thought possible, Denethor was gone from the throne room, Faramir following at his heels.

"So I just wait until some miracle brings Elendacil to me?" Gandalf grumbled.

"No, my lord, she sent us. She is with lord Boromir in the Houses of Healing," Araiss said. Instantly, Gandalf flew out of the throne room. Araiss turned to Thormir.

"Shall we follow them?"

"Most definitely," Thormir replied.

_Author's note: What did you think of the chapter? Opinions on Elendacil, Naurmor, Araiss, and the guardwould be most helpful. I need to know what you are thinking. As always, reviews are always greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading. _

_MornieGalad_


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